


five (of many) times the stargate ladies were awesome

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Chromatic Character, Doctors, F/F, Gen, Mentor-Student Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Prompt Fic, Social Networking, Training, Women Being Awesome, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>does what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five (of many) times the stargate ladies were awesome

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a very sweet anon who gave me paid Dreamwidth time. <3, anon!
> 
> Note: non-canon-compliant as far as Janet Fraiser's timeline is concerned. In the good way.

1) When Miko Kusanagi first arrived on the Atlantis base, she was one of three Japanese expedition members, one of twenty-five female expedition members, and assuredly the only transgender computer scientist from Tsukigata. Her English was still a little halting – and for a multinational expedition, all anyone ever seemed to speak was English – and she had yet to learn French, Portugese, and Cantonese, not to mention Ancient programming code. She was lonely, a lot of the time, but it didn't bother her too much. She was doing something real, something important: writing code to make the city habitable again, to defend her people against invading Wraith armies, to refine the little tricorders to detect life and energy and food. These pursuits took up all of her time and much of her passion, but there was no moment at which she would've given it up and gone home, not even one.

Still, after the first year, when she was familiar enough with the city's systems that she occasionally found herself at loose ends, just for five minutes here and there, she took what little spare time she had and used it to make something for herself. Dr McKay occasionally peered at her suspiciously when he saw her working on it, but in the end he said nothing, and after all it took up so little of the city's server space, really. It was hardly significant. Not using more than negligible resources. Unimportant.

Creating it wasn't the hard part; the hard part, it turned out, was modding an online discussion forum and social networking site for a few hundred people who spoke thirty-seven languages and mostly only knew each other through their very high-stress jobs. For the whole second year, Miko remained the only poster on the trans* forum, the only poster on the Perl Poets forum, and the only poster on the 日本語 forum, no matter how many glares she directed at Dr Tanaka and Sergeant Hasebe. But slowly, so slowly that sometimes Miko wondered why she'd bothered, a community began to grow there, a new one that wasn't about the military, or science, or mortal peril, but that was entirely and uniquely about Atlantis.

Ten years later, her creation is huge and sprawling, spawning spinoff sites and related fora and new forms of social networking, all growing wild on the Atlantis intranet, and if McKay is upset about this rather more significant use of resources, he doesn't mention it to her. Ten years later, and she might be bearing out her mother's weeping prediction that she will die childless, but not her mother's weeping prediction that she will die sad, and certainly not her mother's weeping prediction that she will die alone. On the ten year anniversary of the day she first stepped through the Stargate and set foot on Atlantis, she's taking aside some of the newcomers, Earthers who've never even been to the City before, and offering a listening ear in five languages; she's getting ingredients from an outdoor market twenty-seven light years away to make something nice for dinner; her on-again-off-again thing with Ambrose appears to be most definitely _on_ , again; and there are thirty-three new messages waiting for her on the forum that she built, brick by brick, to fight off the loneliness.

  
2) "Shut the fuck up, McKay," Sam Carter says, going into the forty-second straight hour of their latest crisis, "and sit down."

McKay does.

  
3) "Any allergies? Did you eat anything unusual in the last twenty-four hours?"

The young woman shakes her head, gripping the puke bucket tightly in her hands, and Janet begins to worry. "You're sure? Did anything unusual happen at all? Glowing objects, alien encounters, someone taking over your body, something like that?"

This seems, for some reason, to make the woman – a Lantean-to-be, by her slightly too-fresh-looking uniform – even sicker, and she wretches and spits saliva and bile into the bucket. Janet winces.

The woman mutters something incoherent.

"What was that?"

"I said," the Lantean manages, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, "it's just nerves."

"Oh," Janet says. Then she smiles, and touches the woman's shoulder. "Let me get you some water."

"Thanks," the woman nods, looking glad to have opted out of the standard line of questioning.

"Nerves about what?" Janet asks, as casually as she can, while pouring the water.

The woman laughs. "Isn't it obvious? I'm shipping out to Atlantis," she pats the flag patch on her shoulder, "where I am inevitably going to, to –" she seems to grasp wildly for the fatal consequences of this action – "to accidentally kill someone with some alien healing gizmo while trying to remove a wart, or, you know, forget to ask someone if they encountered any _glowing objects_ , and –"

Janet smiles broadly and hands over the glass of water. "You must be Doctor Keller!"

This brings the woman – Keller – up short. "Yes?" she says.

"I heard we were sending a new doctor to Atlantis. You're going to love it, it's beautiful over there."

Keller blinks fear-sweat out of her eyes and takes a sip of water. "Yeah? You've been?"

"Yup," Janet lies. "Gorgeous medical facilities, too, and great people. Carson is lovely." She's not making it up; she's seen pictures, and she's met Carson Beckett at least twice. And anyway, it's what Keller needs to hear.

"I just – I only found out about, you know, space travel and aliens and stuff, like, five weeks ago, I don't even know all the protocols . . . " she trails off. Then she squints at Janet suspiciously. "You ever kill someone with an alien healing gizmo?"

"Not yet," Janet allows. "But I'm biding my time."

Keller laughs; she has a quick, bursting, friendly sort of laugh. She's going to be just fine.

"You're going to be just fine," Janet says, sitting next to Keller on the bed and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

Keller manages a small smile. "You think?"

"Yup," Janet says, and this time it's not a lie. "Have some more water, you'll feel better."

-

When Keller – Jennifer – ships out for Atlantis, Janet is there to see her off.

"I brought you these," she says, and hands over a brown paper bag. Jennifer peeks curiously inside.

"Dramamine. Cute."

Janet shrugs. "If you need anything, you just call me, okay?"

Jennifer smiles, then rushes forward to hug her tightly. Janet oofs in surprise, then leans into it. "Thank you," Jennifer says.

"I mean it: ginger tablets, puke bags, anti-nausea bracelets – " Janet oofs again as Jennifer punches her in the arm.

"I think I'm going to be just fine," Keller grins, and turns away to find her berth on the Daedalus.

  
4) "Just bend your knees a little more, Torren," Teyla says, tapping the back of his knee gently with two fingers. "It may feel awkward at first, but with time you will find that this position allows you greater stability."

Torren smiles shakily up at her from his half-crouch and tosses his head, flicking sweat out of his eyes. "Like this?" he offers.

"Yes," she agrees, warmly. "Just so. Now hold that position until you feel the beginning of weakness in your legs; then shift to rest position on your exhale."

"Kay," Torren says, concentrating.

"Do not forget to breathe," she cautions.

"I know, mom!"

Teyla smiles. "Very well." She steps back to the edge of the pier and allows him space to accomplish the task she's set him.

"You're very good with him, Teyla," Woolsey says, coming up to stand beside her. He's sweaty and looks out of breath: another workout session with Ronon, perhaps.

"Thank you."

"I –" he hesitates. "It's funny, but a few years ago I might have wondered why you were starting a child on combat training at such a young age."

She laughs, looks up at the blue-green sky that is the City's fifth, her own fourteenth. "Now you feel differently."

"Yes."

Torren exhales noisily and shifts into rest position. "Done, mom," he says.

"Good," Teyla says, warmly. "You did well; but remember that you must not hold a position beyond your ability to maintain your balance and flexibility; endurance has its place, but it is not here."

"Okay." Torren pauses. "Hi, Mr Woolsey."

"Hello, Torren."

"Mom's teaching me about balance."

Woolsey nods sagely. "A worthwhile pursuit. Well, I should go – I'm afraid Ronon is making me run laps again."

Teyla smiles and waves as Woolsey jogs off.

"Are you ready for another new pose? Shake out your limbs."

Torren rolls his eyes (a move he got from Jennifer, Teyla suspects, or else from Rodney), but shakes out his limbs obediently. "Hey mom," he says.

"Yes?"

"How come Mr Woolsey never did any physical training till he got old?"

Teyla arches an eyebrow; it is an astute question. "Well, you know how many of the people on Atlantis came from a place called Earth?"

"Yeah. That's where Uncle John and Uncle Rodney and Aunt Jen are from."

"Just so. On Earth, it is not universally the custom to give children physical training, or to encourage it as a way of living and feeling." She pauses. "Perhaps in part because they never had the Wraith."

Torren's eyebrows shoot up. "Never?"

"Not until recently."

This takes a moment to sink in; reflexively, Torren shifts into the opening stance, the one that takes in new thoughts and feelings. Teyla feels warm pride at this.

"They were rich, I guess," he says eventually, but the word he uses is Athosian: _hoarding_ , _privileged_ , _ignorant_.

"Perhaps. It is not our place to judge that."

"But now Mr Woolsey and, and – " he starts to lose the pose, so Teyla slips a firm hand into the small of his back to support him. "Uncle Rodney and people, they don't act rich anymore."

"No. They are our people now. They fight with us."

Torren shifts again into rest position.

"Okay, I'm ready for the next one," he says.

Teyla smiles, and guides her son as best she can.

"Stretch your arms towards the sky," she begins, and demonstrates the motion herself, reaching upwards to the blue-green sky that shines above the fourteenth planet she's called home.

  
5) "Any allergies? Did you eat anything unusual in the last twenty-four hours?"

"No," Elizabeth says. "And I didn't have any aliens taking over my body and I didn't touch any glowing Ancient devices or anything, either. That I recall."

"It might have slipped your mind," Jennifer teases, shining a light into Elizabeth's mouth and ears, up her nose.

Elizabeth shrugs. "It has been a busy day."

"Yeah, I heard that Ambrose and Zelenka are really going at it on the forum over the classifications of Pegasus bird species."

"You see what my life is like."

Jennifer pokes and prods her a little more, then runs one of the handheld Ancient scanners over her for good measure. "Well, I don't find anything immediately wrong. You said you were feeling queasy?"

Elizabeth quirks a half-smile. "Butterflies in my stomach, maybe."

"Well, you might've mentioned that. How many butterflies did you eat?"

"I swear they were dead this time, doc."

Jennifer laughs. "Okay. So, what, you're feeling nervous about something and you just want me to give you a shot? That's Heightmeyer's department, not mine."

"Oh, I've been to Heightmeyer about this," Elizabeth says. She's evading, and she's aware that she's evading, but she's going to do it this time. She really is.

"So . . . why are you here?"

Elizabeth breathes slowly, the way Teyla's been teaching her, and reaches out for Jennifer's hand. "I – saw your post. On the forum."

Jennifer looks down at their hands, twines her fingers with Elizabeth. The butterflies multiply. "About the classification of bird species?" she asks.

"No, the other one."

"Oh," Jennifer says, "that one." Then she kisses Elizabeth, gently, on the mouth.

"Yes," Elizabeth says.

"But you're not _opposed_ to going on a date with someone interested in bird species, are you?"

"As long as you're not opposed to going on a date with someone who fakes a trip to the hospital to hit on a doctor."

"Dude, if I were? I'd get a lot fewer dates."

Elizabeth smiles, delighted, and kisses her again, on the cheek, like a promise.


End file.
